Eudora

I volunteer weekly at a local animal shelter. This typically means that I arrive at the facility, don a protective apron, fill the pockets with a broad spectrum of dog treats, pick out a leash and head to the information board indicating who has been walked and who has not. I invariably pick those that are older, larger, potentially unruly, and less attractive as these are the ones I suspect will be the last on handlers' lists.

For two weeks I walked Eudora.* She has a dull golden coat with a hint of red. Her eyes were intent and soulful, but less bright and older. There was a hint of fear. She was not a beauty by standard measure, but her spirit, her soul, that indefinable essence.... shown through creating more beauty than one could measure.

I took a cursory look at her information sheet posted on her pen and connected Eudora to a leash and we headed outside to to the facilities dog park. Eudora galloped out into the vast expanse and returned to my side with such joi de vivre. I gave her two warm strokes, under her chin and a much coveted treat. Her body smiled through movement and she was off for another exuberant ark across the weeds and the frozen desert. Our twenty minutes through measured time and space was a bonding of woman and canine, of twin souls on a lark of high desert air and sunshine and sounds.

As we reached the end of the path, Eudora rejoined me running up to my left side. She was already well schooled as to my expectations of her. I applied her leash and we headed back "room" at the shelter. Once back, I reviewed her file more closely. Eudora was eight years old and had been turned in by her owner. I was surprised by her age, more shocked than surprised that she had been dumped at the shelter by her owner. This was an exceptionally well mannered dog, affectionate, and intelligent. I felt my heart ache and my eyes brim with saline tears. It was a release of surprise and deep sadness. How or why could anyone have cast this dog aside?

The following week I returned. Eudora was there again and she had not yet been walked. We were seasoned travelers now. Our knowing glances communicated our desire to move and be together. The snow had laid a covering over our old path. Adora bounded like a puppy along the white powdered path, sat and stayed with my treats as a suggestion, and then once released --bounded across the horizon, her body full of life and appreciation for this bit of freedom. i gazed out across the vista of purple hills with white dressing-- the crispness of the New Mexico sky fashionably spectacular.

Eudora and I finished our promenade in her little "room" with some treats and some body rubs. My eyes had brimmed again.

The third week when I returned to the shelter , she was gone. I assumed she had been taken home by some insightful dog lover, with whom she would presumably bound and romp and love beyond the shelters signposts.....and I smiled. (*name changed for reasons of privacy)